


The Price of Love

by AdventureAddict



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ed is a widower, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Promised Day, death by sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventureAddict/pseuds/AdventureAddict
Summary: "Al?" Ed's voice was a small croak from under the blankets."Yeah?""When you miss mom... does it still feel like... like someone reached into your chest, pulled your heart out, and wrung it like a dishcloth?"Al's eyebrows bunched together and he gave the blanket a pitying smile. He almost didn't want to answer the question, not when it wasn't the answer he wanted to give Ed. But Ed would be able to tell he was lying before he finished the sentence. "...Yeah. It does.""So why-" Ed's voice cracked in a sound that was almost a strangled scream, "Why does everyone keep telling me it will get better?!"
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	The Price of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a warning: Winry is dead in this story, and she died by sickness. I didn't go into detail about it as this story is focused on the aftermath and grieving instead. I just wanted to make sure everyone was aware before they started reading this, since it's a painful thing lots of people have had to go through lately.

_"Grief is love with nowhere left to go."_

_Jamie Anderson_

The strawberries were beginning to rot. 

Al knew this, since he was the one who had ended up watering the plants in the greenhouse lately. There were just things to be done, things he knew Ed couldn't handle doing yet, and Al didn't like the thought of innocent plants suffering just because they were in a greenhouse and cut off from the rain if people forgot to water them. But as much as Al was trying to help, he wasn't sure if picking the strawberries would end up helping or hurting more. It almost seemed like an overstep. But any time Al started thinking he should ask Ed what to do, Ed would have another breakdown and it wouldn't seem like the right time. They were just strawberries, after all. 

Al was having another one of those instances where he was trying to figure out how to broach the subject when he heard the quiet sobs coming from Ed's room.

This wasn't unusual these days, but it didn't mean Al worried any less every time he knew Ed had retreated to a dark corner to lick his wounds like a cat. But Al also knew approaching a hurt, terrified cat was likely to end in an even more upset cat and a bloody human.

But Edward wasn't actually a cat. He was Al's _brother_ for god's sake, so why couldn't they talk about this?

Al crept up the stairs and paused outside Ed's door, still unsure. "Brother?" he called through the door. "Brother, are you-" he cut himself off mid-sentence with a shake of his head. No, Ed was _not_ okay, and Al knew that, and Ed knew that, but if Al asked, Ed would just put on a fake smile and say he was. Al didn't want him to feel like he had to do that.

Ed gave no response from inside the room, so Al put a finger against the door and pushed. It swung open at the contact, which meant Ed had left the door open on purpose. Which meant he wasn't forbidding Al from coming in. Al crept slowly towards the shaking lump of blankets on the bed.

"Brother?" he said, reaching out and putting a hand on Ed's shoulder. The crying suddenly cut off with a sharp inhale. Al frowned, trying to think of something to say other than asking if Ed was okay. "Um... Is there anything I can do to help?"

The blankets shifted and pulled over Ed until a messy scrap of blond hair poked out, followed by a bleary, red eye.

"No, Al, I don't think there's anything you can do."

"Um." Al twisted his hands together and shifted his weight between his feet. "I could bring you some soup if you're hungry?"

"I'm not hungry," Ed said in a flat tone with a sigh, rolling back under the blankets.

"Okay," Al said softly. He looked between Ed and the door for a minute, debating whether he should try and avoid upsetting Ed even more or keep trying to comfort Ed. After a minute, Al sighed and sat on the bed beside Ed, patting the lump of blankets. Ed was silent at the touch, but didn't move away, so Al kept patting, hoping it was helpful somehow. After a long couple minutes of silence, Ed whimpered, condensing into a slightly smaller blanket mass.

"Al?" Ed's voice was a small croak from under the blankets.

"Yeah?"

"When you miss mom... does it still feel like... like someone reached into your chest, pulled your heart out, and wrung it like a dishcloth?"

Al's eyebrows bunched together and he gave the blanket a pitying smile. He almost didn't want to answer the question, not when it wasn't the answer he wanted to give Ed. But Ed would be able to tell he was lying before he finished the sentence. "...Yeah. It does."

"So why-" Ed's voice cracked in a sound that was almost a strangled scream, " _Why_ does everyone keep telling me it will get better?!"

"Because..." Al sighed and rubbed Ed's back. "Because it still hurts as much, but it stops hurting so often. It's always hard to remember when you're in the middle of a heartbreak attack, but try to remember how it happened with mom. It's not that you stop hurting, it's just that... Grief is just.. Love. And slowly, eventually, you stop being scared of the hurt that comes with loving, and you start loving again. And as you start loving again, you start letting out some of the hurting love burning inside you, and eventually, it starts hurting less often. It still hurts sometimes, and it still hurts a _lot_ whenever it hurts, but I guess people confuse less often with just... less, and they think somehow it stops hurting. It doesn't stop hurting, because you never stop loving them. You just learn to direct the love you feel towards them towards other people, other things that remind you of them. Like how you smile every time you see a butterfly because it reminds you of how much mom loved butterflies." 

There was a small sniffle from the lump under the blankets, but Ed didn't move, keeping himself hidden in his blanket cocoon. "I thought I wouldn't have to go through the pain of losing people after everything was over and you were back in your body." 

"I'm afraid you're never going to stop having that pain," Al whispered. "Grief is just the price for love." 

"Equivalent Exchange!" Ed said with a wet laugh that almost sounded hysterical. "I thought I had gotten away from that too!"

Ed let out a few more hysterical barks of laughter, Al watching with a tight frown. After a minute, the laughs evolved into shaky sobs as Ed slowly curled into an even tighter ball of blankets. Al kept gently rubbing his back without saying anything. After a couple minutes of quiet sobbing, Ed seemed to have gotten most of it out and quieted down. After a few minutes of silence, the blankets shifted and Ed slowly sat up, pulling the blankets around him so only his face poked out.

"Was... Was I a bad husband?" Ed said, his face pointed downwards as his flicked his gaze up to Al.

"No, Brother, it wasn't your fault. You were just running errands, and the doctors-"

"Not that." Ed sighed and shook his head. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking at the bedspread. "I just... I wanted things to be... I dunno, _fair_ between us. I didn't want to... to be like Dad was with mom and leave her feeling like she had to do everything on her own. I didn't want to just take half her joy and love, I wanted to take half of her burdens and pain. And I thought I was doing okay with that, but..."

Ed' voice cracked on the words, a tear sliding down his face as he looked up helplessly at Al. "I thought I was doing okay at that, that I was supporting her and not giving more than I took, but she was always so happy just because I was around, and then I had so many nights were I couldn't sleep and she would comfort me. And... And now that she's gone, I'm falling apart because she isn't here to just make it better like she always did. And maybe she was just hurting underneath everything but didn't want to show me because I was too caught up in myself, and maybe me falling apart because she's not here is just proof that I was taking too much from her..."

"No, Brother," Al said, reaching out and putting his hands on Ed's shoulders. "This is _Winry_ we're talking about. Do you really think she's the type to lie just to protect your feelings?"

"Maybe..." Ed said, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"No, Brother," Al said with a shake of his head. "She couldn't even stop herself from saying something if you wore stupid socks. There's no way she could stay silent about that intense of feelings for that long. She's not that type of person. She was happy around you all the time because _you honestly made her that happy_. That's a sign you're a good husband, not a bad one."

Ed smiled a tiny bit at Al's words and shrugged reluctantly.

"As for why you're breaking," Al said, rubbing Ed's shoulders up and down. "It's not because you're weak. You got married and you adjusted to being married. And now you have to adjust to being... You have to adjust again. ' _If a human were turned into a horse, he would have to relearn how to walk. If he were turned back into a human, he would have to relearn again.'_ "

Ed smiled a little ruefully at the familiar phrase. It was an old Xingese proverb that Ling had always written in his letters to Ed when Ed had been struggling to adapt to a life without alchemy.

"But I don't _want_ to relearn," Ed whispered, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I want to stay where I was."

"I know, Brother," Al said softly, reaching out and taking Ed's hands. "I know."

* * *

"This feels wrong somehow," Ed said, glancing around the living room. "This place has been a Rockbell house as long as I can remember, and now an Elric is the last one standing to own it."

"You were as much a Rockbell as Winry was an Elric," Al said with a soft smile.

"Yeah, I guess," Ed said softly, laying a hand on the doorframe as he looked around.

"So... where was this book we needed?"

"Oh, right." Ed shook his head like he was pulling himself out of a daydream. "Uh... Winry kept this binder or something of all her clients. I think it was in her workshop."

Al nodded and headed in the direction of the workshop while Ed followed behind, his hand trailing lazily along the wall. They had recently had someone come knocking at their place wondering why no one was at the Rockbell house for their automail appointment. Apparently, they had been asking all over town before eventually getting directed to the Elric house, and Ed had realized something had to actually be done about Winry's clients. Everyone in town knew what had happened, of course, but there was nowhere near enough automail business just in Resembool alone, especially when it was someone as talented as Winry. Someone had to call all those people and let them know they needed to find a new mechanic, and Al had volunteered to help

Ed glanced down at his left leg as he drifted towards the workroom. Nah, she had just done a full maintenance on him. There were benefits to marrying your mechanic, after all. He wouldn't need to think about getting it serviced for a while. After all, her work was flawless, of course it would be able to last a long time if he was careful with it. And he actually could be careful with it now that he didn't constantly have people trying to kill him. It was all these other people who had to worry about getting a new mechanic, not him.

Ed had to brace a hand against the door frame as soon as he walked in the workshop, trying to catch his balance as he took in deep, shuddering breaths. Al paused his searching and shot Ed a concerned look.

"Brother, you didn't have to come back here, you can wait in the living room," Al said, walking over and reaching out to support Ed. Ed shook his head, his ponytail whipping around his face.

"No, I want to help," he croaked. "I just... I just forgot how much this room smelled like her."

Al wrinkled his nose and glanced around the room with a frown. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"You notice after sleeping next to this smell every night for years," Ed said with a bitter chuckle. He pushed Al's hands away and did his best to stand up straight. "Seriously, Al, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"It's hard not to," Al said with a frown, but turned away from Ed to go back to his search. "It would be okay if you weren't fine, you know."

"I know, I know," Ed said with a sigh. He walked slowly into the room, his fists clenched as he sat in the same chair he had always sat in when he had come in the workshop to keep her company while she worked. Al was working methodically, pulling each binder off the shelf, flipping it open, reading the first couple pages, and then placing it back in the same place on the shelf before moving on to the next one. Ed closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, trying to make his hands stop shaking.

"Oh. Brother, it looks like this one is for you." 

Al's voice cut through Ed's attempts to calm himself down, and he could feel his breath catch. He cracked his eyes open. "What?"

"Here," Al said, turning and sliding a binder into Ed's hands. Sure enough, right there on the front page were two words in achingly familiar handwriting. _For Ed._ Ed sucked in a soft breath and bit his lip before slowly flipping to the next page.

_Dear Ed-_

_Oh, my dear, dear Ed. I hope you never have to find this. I hope someday I'm healthy enough that I can feel comfortable sneaking into my room and pulling out these notes and putting this binder back the way it was. But if you do end up finding this, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Ed. I can only imagine what you're going through, after what you went through with your mom when we were little. I don't know exactly what may have happened, but I know one thing: You're probably blaming yourself. You big idiot. It probably doesn't matter how many times I told you it wasn't your fault, you're probably still finding ways to blame yourself anyway. Well, I'll put it in writing so you can remind yourself whenever you need. It wasn't your fault, Edward. It really wasn't, no matter what excuses you've come up with._

Ed tried his best to stifle the small whimper that came out through the silent tears that were already streaming down his face. There was no way Al hadn't noticed, but to his credit, he just kept pulling down and looking at binders, focused on his task. After it, it was basically expected that Ed would cry over a note Winry had left specifically for him. 

_Anyway, I know you're terrible at taking care of yourself, so I have one last thing to give you. Underneath the desk in my workshop is a leather suitcase. In it is a brand new automail leg for you. If you have to use it, I guess it's my final revision, the best Rockbell automail will ever have to offer. Please give it a good dusting and oiling before you install it. Sitting around for a few months doing nothing isn't very good for automail, but I didn't have much choice._

_I figured that gives you as much time as possible to face the facts. You are going to need a new automail mechanic, Edward. I know you want it to be me, but that's not going to happen. Please. Please, Ed. I need you to take care of yourself. I need you to keep walking forward like you always promised me you would._

_In the rest of this binder are the full schematics and plans for your leg. Please be so careful with this, because it was my life's work. You were my life's work. But when you're ready, if you would like, I would love if you would share these plans with your new mechanic. Maybe then a small piece of me can always keep living on with you. _

_Anyway, it's up to you what you choose to do, but I wanted to make sure you had as much information as possible. I hold no ill will if you end up doing something else because this is too painful. But I also know how sentimental you can be sometimes, and I thought this might help with some of the pain if you needed something sentimental. All I want is for you to find a way to keep going and find a way to be happy again someday._

_Please don't regret how we got here. I'll never regret that I got to share my entire life with you._

_100%, forever,_

_Winry_

"How dare you," Ed whispered, clenching the binder until his knuckles turned white, a tear falling down and standing the handwritten page. "How dare you find a way to take care of me even now. How am I supposed to ever pay you back if you're taking care of me even when you're gone?" 

The suitcase was exactly where Winry had instructed. It was the sleekest version of her design Ed had seen yet, and it was like he could see the love in every single curve and crevice. There was also a small addition on the kneecap that none of his other legs had in the past. It was small enough that he only found it when he was absently rubbing at his knee as he thought, and he had to bend down and examine the bumps to his leg, wondering if he had already damaged it somehow. 

But it wasn't damaged. It was a small infinity symbol, hand-carved into his leg like a signature. 

* * *

In the end, Al didn't even have to tell Ed about the strawberries. Ed ended up at the greenhouse on his own one day, his hands jammed in his pockets. He didn't exactly want to be there, not really, but he somehow knew he had to be there, that it was _time_ to be there. 

The greenhouse had started as a weird lark for Ed. It had first started as wanting to grow some plants that he knew were used for alchemical purposes, for the sake of studying other approaches to alchemy. Then he had started a feud with the local wildlife over the things he was growing, and building the greenhouse had been Ed's final power move to win the war. Eventually, he had started growing plants for medicinal purposes, at first to help Winry's automail patients with pain, though it had eventually evolved into a frantic search for a cure to the disease that kept him awake with terror every night. 

But Winry had convinced him to keep one small area for something non-medicinal, something purely for fun, and that was the strawberries. In the end, he had given in because she loved strawberries _so_ much, and he loved the way she smiled when he said he would grow them for her. So he put all his love for her into the strawberries, telling them every day how wonderful she was and how much he loved being her husband, even when he really wished she would put down the automail for five minutes. But that was just another part of what he loved about her, how much she threw herself completely into anything she found to be worthwhile. Like how she thought she could save the world with really good automail. 

In the end, she _had_ saved the world with good automail. Ed had seen it at the funeral, when so many people had come to him with tears in their eyes, metal glinting off some piece of them as they told him she had made them see life as worth living again. And his automail had always glinted back like a secret handshake as he told them he felt exactly the same way. Normally Ed hated wearing shorts, hated people staring at his leg, but for that day he had polished his leg and put on a pair of dress shorts. Sure, it was unconventional, but it seemed like the right thing to do, bragging about her one last time, bearing witness to just how much of an impact she'd had on his life. 

The strawberries had ripened just days after the funeral. At one point Ed had been checking on their progress daily, desperately hoping they would ripen so he could have something to bring to Winry and bring her spirits up. Maybe it was the child in him remembering when his mom had been sick, but part of him kept thinking that if he could just find a way to make Winry truly happy for a moment, then she would smile and laugh and everything would be just like it had been Before, and that would be proof that everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be. But the strawberries hadn't ripened in time. There was no miracle. 

As it turned out, only a handful of strawberries had actually ended up going bad while Ed had neglected them. Most of the strawberries were either perfect or good enough to be salvaged. Ed nibbled at one of the fruits as he tended to the plants, wiping his tears away with the back of his sleeve. He ended up pulling together enough strawberries to fill a small basket, and headed out of the greenhouse feeling just the tiniest bit lighter, looking forward to seeing Al smile at how sweet the strawberries were. 

As he headed out of the greenhouse, a butterfly landed on one of the strawberries, pausing for a minute to fan its wings. Just long enough for Ed to see it and give it a gentle smile before it flew away.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote in the midst of one of my own "heartbreak attacks" as a way of coping with all the grief feelings.


End file.
